Showing posts with label Croatia. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Croatia. Show all posts

Sunday, May 10, 2015

Dubrovnik 1991


An authentic voice…
The war? I have eleven years old at that time. My sister she went get fish at the market, and the aircraft come, we hear four booms, and my sister, she only have seven years, she sees the pilot, she comes home, she is crying. We stay four days and one night my father takes us to a boat, it is a storm, we go to Dubrovnik. I remember I drank some reddish tea, it was horrible seas, everyone was throwing up that stuff. In Dubrovnik, people say it is safe, it is UNESCO, it has walls. We stay there 40 days. But we are running often into shelters, there is little water, it is not hygienic, a month we do not wash hair. My sister is sick, she has a rash, the doctors don’t know, perhaps it is the war, we go to Split. She’s OK now. My father comes home, yes he is also OK. The house, it has no roof but we clean it, it is usable, slowly my father rebuilds, he grows grapes now. We used to go to Montenegro but my parents not now, they will not go. It is hard for them. But for me, I have eleven years old at that time. I can forgive. But for some they cannot easily forgive.

Saturday, May 9, 2015

Postcard from Dubrovnik


Breakfast on the sea wall…
Dario: I have to write to my parents. They’re pre-internet, still postal.

Beatrice: (reads) Huh. “Sunny. You’d love it here.” Why don’t you actually TELL them something?

Dario: Like?

Beatrice: Like: “It’s an old walled city on the Adriatic. There's a dozen museums stuffed with stories. Documenting its times of prosperity, its fleets, its culture. And times of being captured by Venice, by Napoleon, and then being slow to make the leap from sail to steam when people like Babić and Pavlović sailed away to new lives in new worlds.”
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Voice-over
How to write a postcard? A little light history, a hint of the epic, and a link to those you’re writing to, with names they know.